A Pirates Return
by Scriptorem stilis
Summary: It is thirty years after Freddy Fazbears burnt to the ground. A demolition crew has been sent to clean the debris. In doing so, they make a discovery that will bring forth the idea of a new resturant.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Hi guys! Well, here is the first chapter of the sequel for Tales of a Pirate. I would love to read what you guys think in the reviews, and I hope you will enjoy this new story as much as Tales!**

 **-Scriptorem stilis**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **Discovery**

The rain pattered on the ground amidst the dark shapes of people standing on the sodden turf. The woebegone mourners stood around a rectangular patch of freshly disturbed earth. At one end of this rectangle stood a slab of polished granite. Engraved in the flat face were the words "May his memory be eternal" and below "Jason Fazbear" "1945-2017".

The mourners cast their bouquets of flowers upon the mud of the grave and departed. All had left save one. A man in his fifties with dark hair stood for some time. Tears were running down his face, blending in with the drops of rain.

A woman laid her hand upon his shoulder.

"Dear, you are getting soaked. Let us go,"

He stood fast, and showed no attempt of moving. Then, he raised his hand to chest height. In his clenched fist, he held a single white lily.

"Lilies were always his favorite," the man spoke through tears.

Stooping to the ground, he placed the lily gingerly on the brown earth.

"Goodbye, Mr. Fazbear. It was with great pleasure that we had had such an excellent friendship,"

With that, Mike Schmidt left the grave with his wife following behind.

* * *

The roar of diesel engines filled the air. The steady clamor of jack hammers chipping the misshapen hunks of concrete and the whine of mini grinders cutting rebar grated against unprotected ears.

Large excavators with grabbing attachments were picking up heaps of rubble and dropping it into an endless line of dump trucks.

Years ago, this building had erupted in flame. Now, the town had decided to demo it, to make room for construction.

A shout that somehow carried above the din of the machines drew a crowd to single workman.

A slab of concrete had slid, and trapped his leg. Quickly, they dislodged it, and dragged him out of the way. With him, a piece of tattered purple fabric was soaking up the blood that gushed from a cut in his leg.

"Hey, I think I have found somethin'!" a woman called.

A group of workers heaved on a warped sheet of metal and revealed a dim lit hole in the wreckage.

The sun shone upon something covered in red, dust covered fur….


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N, Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay! Well, here is the second chapter, I hope you will all enjoy, and that you are looking forward to what is to come!**

 **weetaz07, I am glad you enjoyed the first chapter! I plan on making this story good, but I doubt I could make it as good as Tales!**

 **Anyway, I hope you awesome readers will leave how you felt about this chapter in the reviews!**

 **-Scriptorem stilis**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 **Shadow of the Past**

He slowly stirred. Blinking his eyes, his vision did not clear. It seemed that there was a cloud before his eyes. Waving his hand through the air, attempting to be rid of the fog. Blinking a few more times, his vision finally cleared. He was leaning against a cold wall of concrete, in a dim room. The air about him seemed to radiate a musk, as of old books and carpets.

He shivered slightly. Looking down, he found that he was butt nude!

"Where be me clothes?"

Trying to stand, his joints creaked and popped, as if they had not been bent in an age. Slowly, he overcame this slight issue, and began to limp stiffly about the room.

In front of where he had been sitting stood a long, low table. Spread upon this there was many tools and peculiar odds and ends.

"Where be I?" Foxy wondered to himself.

His memory was foggy at best. He could not remember how he got here. A series of images seemed to pester him, like a swarm of mosquitos.

In it, he saw the face of a white vixen. Upon her snowy fur, he saw flickers of red. Like that of a flame.

White vixen. He thought the face looked familiar. In fact, he was certain he had a name to put to that pretty face.

"Mary," he spoke aloud.

As if he had spoken a command of opening, the memories flooded his vision. The crackling of fire and crashing of the building collapsing. Billows of choking smoke raising to the ceiling, the feeling of the flames closing in. The warm feel of tears running down his chest. Mary was crying as he held her close. The thud as a beam crashed down upon them…

"NO!" Foxy shouted to the emptiness about him.

Those memories must be wrong! Mary is ok. She MUST be okay!

Looking about the room, he spotted a large mass of jumbled and tumbled forms lying in the corner. Walking towards them, they slowly began to take color and shape. Out of the whole, his one good eye was drawn to a white tail sticking out from underneath a tarp.

Bending down, he reached out with his left hand and drew the tarp off. On the cracked concrete floor lay his vixen.

"Mary, lass! Are ye alright?" he enquired as he gently shook her.

A white ear twitched. Each minute seemed to last an eternity as Foxy watched Mary slowly sit up.

"Foxy..? Wha- what happened?" she asked groggily.

Foxy was delighted to hear his vixen speaking. He pulled her into a tight embrace and did not let go of her for a while.

"Where be our clothes?" Mary questioned, raising an eyebrow at their nudity.

"I be not sure lass. But at least I have ye!"

Releasing Mary from his arms, he stood up and offered Mary a helping hand to stand. Her legs were weak under her, and it took a short time for her to get used to standing again.

"What happened? How did we get here?" Mary demanded, as if expecting to receive an answer from the room itself.

"I don't know lass. Me mind be repeating fragments, but I be not certain whether these are memories, or dreams,"

Mary sighed, and sat down, leaning against the wall. Foxy followed suite and sat next to her. After he became comfortable, Mary leaned on him, resting her head on his shoulder. Together, the fell into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

A ringing made him jump. Listening, he heard it again. Getting up out of his chair, he walked to the kitchen to fetch the phone. On the little display, it showed a strange number.

"Who the hell?" Mike mumbled as he picked the receiver up.

"Hello?"

"Uh, hi! I, uh, am looking for a Schmidt? Michael Schmidt?" A woman asked.

"Speaking. How may I help?"

"Um… right. My research shows that you used to work for Freddy Fazbears Pizzeria, correct?"

"Yeah, but that was back in the 80's, and only for a small while before,"

"It burned down. Yeah, I know. Look, Mr. Schmidt. There is a crew that is currently removing the rubble from the site. During this, a worker got his leg trapped under a slab of concrete,"

Mike raised an eye brow. Why was this lady talking to him about this?

"Is he alright?"

"Yes, he will be. He just suffered from a few lacerations, surprisingly. But that is beside the point. When they moved the concrete, one of the workers spotted a dark hole, about the size of a small room. In it, they found two of the animatronic mascots that had been used to entertain the children!"

He was taken back by this. They had found two of his old friends?

"Which ones are they?" He asked, trying his best to try and conceal the eagerness in his voice.

"Well, they say it was the two foxes, a white and crimson one,"

He had known their names, and in his mind, he could see their faces. Anne Dieu-le-Veut, or Mary for short, and Foxy. He longed to see them, but was worried that they would be scarred and disfigured by the fire.

"How are they? In condition, I mean?" Mike spoke up.

"Well, they were covered in a layer of dust and ash. But other than that, I'd say they were fine. Now, how they'd still function, I am not certain," The woman replied.

"Where are they at?"

"Well, they at the place of a former employee of Fazbears,"

"Who?" Mike asked. He couldn't remember anyone else that worked there.

"His name is Jeremy Fritzgerald."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Hey guys! I am so sorry that I haven't posted this earlier! Well, here is the third chapter! I know it isn't that long, but I hope I can make it right, and try and make the next chapter longer. Well, I hope you will enjoy, and I would love to hear what you guys thought of this chapter!**

 **I hope you have a good day or night!  
**

 **-Scriptorem stilis**

 **Chapter Three**

 **A New Idea**

"Dear, who was that on the phone?" Kate asked him softly.

"She was Hannah Murphy. She called to inform me that they had found the animatronics from Freddy's," Mike replied.

"That is wonderful news! I remember how you used to tell me stories about your time at Freddy's, and how close you were to those robots,"

"Yeah. I really miss them…. Wait, if they have been found, maybe I could bring Mr. Fazbears dream back to life! I could build a restaurant, and have the crew perform for the kids again!" He said triumphantly.

"Yes, that is what I'll do," Mike said to himself.

* * *

"Argh," He grumbled.

He was waking from a fleeting nightmare, where a golden rabbit had been chasing him, limping like a zombie. Mary stirred next to him, waking from her dreams.

"What be the time, cap'n?" She questioned before yawning.

"I don't know, lass. 'Tis a timeless hole we be in, it seems," Foxy replied.

A light danced upon the floor, in an elongated rectangle. Going over to investigate, Foxy moved toward the door, reaching out for the brass door knob, he twisted it. It rattled before swinging away from him. He glanced back at Mary, who was now standing right behind him, before entering the room.

A man was working on what appeared to be a heavily damaged leg of an endoskeleton. A small radio was playing a song that seemed very upbeat, and seemed to boost Foxy's courage.

" _Some legends are told_ _._ _Some turn to dust or to gold_ ,"

Foxy liked that line, and he actually thought of maybe using that in a song as inspiration for some stories.

The man turned around at that moment and nearly jumped out his skin. His green eyes were wide as saucers, and his red hair was standing on end, with streaks of white mixed in.

"Take it easy lad! We mean no harm to ye," Foxy said, putting his hand and hook up in the air.

"My god… You still work!" The man said before chuckling uneasily.

"Um… I didn't think you would function after that fire, and being buried so long in all that rubble. But then again, you didn't suffer as much damage as your friends had,"

"Where be they?" Mary spoke up, her tone was dry.

"Well… they are really rough for wear. They were pretty much toast when they came here. I have been trying my best to fix them, but… I am not sure if they will work the same they did thirty years ago,"

"I be sure that ye are doing fine, lad," Foxy said.

"If it be not too much to ask but, where be we? What be your name? And be the time of day?" Marianne asked.

"You are in my basement. Heh, I know how weird that sounds, but it is my workshop down here. My name is Jeremy Fitzgerald. I used to work the day shift at Freddy's. And it is ten o'clock in the morning, to answer your last question, Anna," Jeremy replied to the multiple questions.

Mary pondered this chunk of information for a minute. Foxy walked over to where Jeremy was working, and regarded the support beam for the upper thigh was severely bent.

"That leg was crushed during the fire. I will most likely have to replace it," Jeremy said, following Foxy's gaze.

"Can I see them?" Foxy asked, as if he wasn't entirely there.

"They are in pretty bad shape, like I said. But I can't see any reason on why you can't see them," he said as he walked towards a different door, at the left end of the room.

Foxy followed behind, his feet thudding against the concrete.

Jeremy opened the door and went in, with Foxy right behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Hey guys! Sorry I didn't upload this sooner! I had a good writing mood the other day, so I was able to pop this chapter out. Now, here it is for you guys to enjoy!**

 **weetaz07 I am glad that you enjoyed the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one!**

 **Anyway guys, I hope you enjoy, and I would love to read your reviews!**

 **-Scriptorem stilis**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

 **Mortuos surgere**

'What is this?' He thought to himself. 'And why the hell does my head hurt so much?'

Turning his attention to other things, he realized he couldn't move his arms or legs.

"What the fuck?!" He said aloud.

His eyes adapted to the darkness. He could see the jagged edges of concrete and the sharp points of rebar. The air was stuffy, and smelled of decay. He could barely resist the urge to vomit.

'How the hell did I get here?'

As if from some distance, he could hear the sound of cracking, and machine engines rumbling. Through his concrete tomb he could feel the vibrations of jack hammers chipping through the rubble.

He endured this for hours without count, hearing the sound, but not able to get help, for he was trapped. He had tried to call for help, but he found he couldn't make a sound, save for a hoarse whisper.

The noises and vibrations stopped. He was on the verge of sleep, when he perceived this. With some effort, he found he could move his left arm. With even less effort, he could move his right. Lifting the up, he pushed against the slab that was above him.

With a hard shove, the slab budged slightly. He tried again and the concrete moved off. The stars shone out bright and cold. A slight breeze sighed through the crevices in the rubble. With little effort, he pushed the rest of the debris off himself.

That was when he really got a good look at his arms and legs. He tried to scream, but all that escaped from his lacerated throat was a mere wheeze.

'What the hell HAPPENED to me?!' He thought in alarm.

As if on que, memories flooded his mind.

A sudden pinging sound rang out.

His eyes widened as his body was pierced by the spring locks.

"Argghhhh….." He cried out in agony as his throat was slit by the sharp metal.

He fell over, emitting a gurgling sound as he slowly died.

The memory played over and over in his mind. This couldn't be right, could it?

He gently tapped his face with the large hands of the suit. The golden yellow had faded to that of a greenish tinge. Through holes in the suit, he could see wrinkled flesh and yellowed bones beneath.

He found that the pestilence was coming from him. In the sides of his neck, he could feel the sharp blades that had bled him like a stuck pig. Looking back into the hole he had been entombed in, he pulled the head out, and looked at it.

The ears had not escaped the damage the rest of the suit had sustained. The right ear was missing the upper half and wires jutted from where the connection had been.

He placed the head back on, and felt suddenly like he was whole. As if, this suit and he were one.

A beginning of a plan began to form in his mind. Those spring locks weren't set off on their own. They had had help. The last face he had seen before his slow torment killed him was fixed in his mind's eye.

He was going to kill him. Nice and slowly.

* * *

Jeremy flicked on a light. The room sprang into focus. Three forms were tumbled at the wall across from them. The colors of the skin that covered the endoskeleton was torn and burnt. But in places the original colors could still be discerned; yellow, brown and purple.

"As I said, they are in rough shape," Jeremy said, but looked at his shoes uneasily.

Mary squeezed Foxy's hand. He squeezed hers back, to reassure her.

"Uh… I don't know how close you guys are to having human emotions and all, but… uh, if you would follow me?" Jeremy muttered.

Without a word, the two foxes followed Jeremy as he led them out of the room and back to his workbench. They passed it by and went out another door. It had a short landing before a flight of stairs leading up.

They went up, the boards groaning in protest under the two animatronics weight. Coming out of the stairwell, they went into a short hallway that had three other doors opening off to the right and left. They walked to the end and passed into a room that had a short bench that had hats and gloves thrown helter-skelter on it.

Out another door they went, and were greeted by a cool April breeze. The grass was a vivid green, and the trees had early leaves upon every bough. A rain-washed sky was above all, and the sun was just setting on the western horizon, giving the air a golden light.

"Tis beautiful, lad," Mary said, looking thoughtfully at the scenery.

"Thank you! I knew you guys never went outside at the old restaurant, but I thought that maybe that going outside would help, since, well, nature is calming,"

"Thank ye, ye be a kind soul, Mr. Fitzgerald," Foxy replied honestly.

With a little sigh, he left them on the deck as he went back into the house. Foxy took Mary's hand and the descended the broad steps leading down to a paved stone pathway. The strolled off the path and into the grass.

Both of them relished the feel of the soft grass under their feet, and the earthy aroma the ground gave off. They made their way up a small hill to a tall oak. Under it, they sat upon the sweet smelling grass and leaned their backs against it grey trunk. It was so peaceful; they forgot their troubles and woes for a while.

* * *

He placed the last odds and ends into the large suitcase that lay open upon the bed. Everything was already arranged. Leave for the Stanfield International Airport at five thirty, and catch his flight down to Utah at eight o'clock. It will be a near thirteen hour flight, followed by an hour drive down to Hurricane.

Zipping up the bag, he rolled it out of his room. Kate was waiting for him at the door. Together, they walked out to the car and placed Mike's luggage in the trunk.

They drove off, and Mike watched the scenery go by. Ever since he had left Hurricane twenty years ago, he had fallen in love with the scenery of Nova Scotia. Together with Kate, they lived in a quite community called Center Burlington. It was a fifty minute drive from the provinces capital, Halifax.

It is about an hour drive to the airport. They didn't take the 101 to Bedford then take the 102. They took the 215 to where it connects with the 14. After the 14, they took the 214 South and joined the 102. They drove until they reached the airports turnoff at exit six.

The car's radio, which was almost always tuned to Jack 92.9, had just finished the song Fooled Around and Fell in Love by Elvin Bishop.

Kate drove around to the departures lane, and Mike got out. He opened the trunk and lifted his bag out. Placing it on the ground, Kate came around and hugged him.

"Be safe Hun," She said.

"I will, and don't worry; I will only be gone for a few days. I will be home before you know," Mike replied before he kissed her.

They both smiled. Tears were running down Kate's cheek, as Mike went through the revolving doors of the airport terminal.

She got back into the car. Driving back to the highway, the radio began to play a rather sad song.

"Say something, I'm giving up on you,"

Tears began to run down her already red face. She already missed Mike.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Hey guys! Man, this is really overdue! And I do apologize! But I do hope you enjoy, and looking forward to the next Chapter, which hopefully won't take as long!**

 **-Scriptorem stilis**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

 **Arrival**

He strode on throughout the night, until the first grey light of dawn touched the horizon. Though the suit was heavy, he found that he was still able to move at a fair pace.

As the sun began to peep over the horizon, it smarted sharply in his eyes. He raised his hand to block the light. From his body, a foul smelling reek began to emit, followed by searing pain. Ducking out of the light in the shade of a gnarled pine, he found immediate relieve, although he was just beginning to burn in places.

"What the fuck?! Am I not able to go in daylight?!" He asked aloud, not caring if anyone heard him.

To test his theory, he stuck his left hand out into the light. It seemed to not do anything for the first few seconds, but began to hurt and smoke after a few seconds. Crying out in his near silenced way, he drew his hand back.

'Damn. I can only travel by night, seemingly,'

With that, he sat down and drew branches with needles on them around him, to shade him when the sun turned westward. Leaning his back against the bole of the tree, he slipped into dark dreams of murder and revenge, waiting for the cool night to return.

* * *

Jeremy watched the two foxes resting with their backs against the tree from the kitchen window. He smiled, for it was a rather cute site, other than the fact that they were still in pretty rough shape. Sighing, he went to the fridge and took out a chilled glass, in it he placed a two ice cubes from the freezer and poured some Brandy into it.

Downing the liquor in one swig, he placed the glass back in the freezer and made his way back down to his workshop in the basement.

"Do the best you can. That's all we want from you, Mr. Fitzgerald," The ladies voice played through his head. Her name had been Hannah Murphy. Or was it Murry?

Shaking his head, he picked up a hammer and began to straighten a crooked rod. After that, he went over to the left side of the table and picked up an odd looking contraption. He stuck the rod in one end of it. He picked up a screw and a drill and secured the rod in place.

Drawing a larger piece of metal, he attached the contraption to the large piece near a ball joint.

'I'll have to rebuild the foot next. Make sure it has a socket that'll fit the ball,' Jeremy thought to himself.

He continued on with his work, unaware of what the time was, and quite frankly, not caring.

He didn't have any sort of job like this for years.

* * *

"Do ye 'member when we first met?" Mary asked, looking up at Foxy.

"Aye. Tis hard not to forget, lass," Foxy replied.

"I had to kick ye to make ye talk. I asked if ye had been watching me,"

"That I do remember. Ye have a good kick, for a vixen," Foxy nudged her gently in the side.

"And ye had been, ye scurvy peeking Tom!" Mary snapped.

"But ye were an eyeful. Aye, I haven't seen a sight like ye in a while,"

Mary blushed at Foxy's compliment. Leaning down, he placed a quick kiss on her lips. Her blush deepened as she returned the kiss.

They sat there like that for some time. When they broke the kiss, Mary placed her hands in Foxy's. The boughs sang them a gentle song in its strange tongue, and the two foxes felt at peace, for a short time, at least.

* * *

As soon as he stepped out of the airport, he was smacked in the face by the heat. Even though the sun had set a few hours ago, the heat of it still beat off the rocks and sand of the land in Utah.

He hailed a taxi and placed his luggage in the trunk when a yellow cab pulled up. Mike sat down in the back seat of that taxi, and silently praised god for the invention of air conditioning.

"Where you headed to bud?" The driver asked.

"To a house on the outskirts of town, close to where the old Fazbear Restaurant had been." Mike replied.

"You mean Jeremy's place?"

"Yes," Mike replied.

Without a further word, the driver drove off into the night, with Mike staring out the window as the dark world passed by.

"I know it is not my place to ask, but you're accent is a bit funny. How would a foreigner know about Freddy's?"

"I used to live here in Utah. As for Freddy's, I worked there before it burnt down. When it burned down in '87, moved up to Canada. I went with him, because he essentially became a second father to him,"

"What was there in Canada, Igloos and Polar bears, maple syrup drinking hockey players and lumberjacks?"

Mike looked at the drivers reflection in the mirror.

"Are you being serious?"

"I have never been out of Utah. How would I know what Canada is like?"

"Well, maybe you should go on the internet and look. We only get snow in the winter, and polar bears don't live in Nova Scotia, except for in zoos,"

The driver smiled, and said, "You learn something new every day,"

For the last duration of the ride, the driver and Mike kept their silence.

At last, they pulled up in a gravel driveway next to a grey, two storied house.

"Here's your stop, Mr. Canuck,"

"Thank you, sir. And here is your pay, with a generous tip to maybe let you get to Canada someday,"

Mike said as he handed the driver fifty big ones.

"Wow mister, you are really generous! Have a good night!"

He got out of the car and grabbed his luggage from the trunk and walked up the steps of the deck to the front door. Setting his bags down, he lifted the knocker on the door.

Mike waited for a few moments before he heard heavy thuds coming from inside. The door opened and there stood a red fox, whose fur was matted and ripped in places.

"Foxy! What have I told you about opening the door?! People are not supposed to see you!" a man with red hair scolded the fox.

The man then noticed Mike standing at the door.

"Oh, hello sir. How may I help you?" The man asked, a bit gruffly.

He looked at the bags that Mike had and said, "Whatever you're selling, I am not interested,"

"Mr. Fitzgerald? Are you Jeremy Fitzgerald?" Mike inquired.

"I am. And whom may you be that is asking?" Jeremy fired back.

"Michael Schmidt. I was told that the animatronics had been found, and that you had them,"

"Told by who?" Jeremy asked, suspicion in his eyes.

"Mike? Be it ye laddie?" Foxy spoke up.

Mike smiled and nodded his head. Before he knew was happening, he was lifted off the ground and held in the strong embrace of the red fox.

"We be worried that ye perished in that inferno! T'last we saw of ye was the Golden bunny man and ye fighting, before the wall o' fire covered the entrance to the cove, so we couldn't see out,"

"I am sorry things went as they did Foxy. If I could have, I would have saved you all. But now I am just saying things that are impossible,"

Jeremy gave him an odd look.

"You worked at Fazbear's Pizza, before the accident?"

"Which accident do you mean, the one with poor Foxy here, or when the Restaurant went up in a ball of fire?"

"The only one everyone around here remembers. Fazbears burning to the ground,"

Foxy let Mike down, and went back into the house, whistling a happy tune.

"I'm sorry, Michael. How rude of me! You are still standing at my door! Please come in! We would be more comfortable sitting at the table to discuss these things!"

Jeremy helped Mike take his things into the house and sat them in the hall. They then went to the kitchen and sat down at the table.

"Can I get you anything to drink Michael, water, a soda, perhaps something a bit stronger?"

"A glass of water would do me fine, at the moment. And please, call me Mike, if it is the same to you," Mike politely said.

After Jeremy gave Mike a glass of water, they began to talk about many things. Their time at Fazbears Pizza, the animatronics, their former boss, Mr. Fazbear, and most of all, what was to be done with the band of singing, walking, talking robots that were in the basement.


End file.
